


Through the Narrow Aisles of Pain

by Cedara



Category: Rivers of London - Ben Aaronovitch
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Misses Clause Challenge, Yuletide 2014
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-10
Updated: 2014-12-10
Packaged: 2018-02-28 22:59:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2750270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cedara/pseuds/Cedara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little bit of backstory for Molly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Through the Narrow Aisles of Pain

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jedishampoo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jedishampoo/gifts).



> Contains slight spoilers for "Moon over Soho" and "Foxglove Summer".

Sometimes, when she concentrated on her memories, Molly could recall when she had realised that she wasn't human. 

It was the day a lot of strange smelling men, accompanied by uniformed police officers, came to her first master's house and arrested him. Afraid of people she didn't know, Molly had hid in one of her master's magic boxes, hoping that nobody would look for her. Despite that, she still had been discovered and had to go with the strange smelling men, who brought her into the Folly. 

One of the strange smelling men left her in the Folly's kitchen, where an older woman with a friendly demeanour and a kind face took care of Molly. 

"I'm Mrs. Evans," she said, sitting Molly down at the kitchen table and looked at her directly, her face curious, but caring. "My dear girl, you look like you could need a hot chocolate."

As Molly hadn't answered, Mrs. Evans came over to the kitchen table with two cups of hot chocolate, sitting down opposite Molly. Watching Mrs. Evans drink from her cup, Molly carefully sampled the hot brown fluid herself, putting a hand in front of her face while she did so. Mrs. Evans just watched her calmly, not commenting on Molly's behaviour. 

"What's your name, dear?" Mrs. Evans asked.

She just looked at Mrs. Evans, astonished. Her previous master hadn't given her a name and she couldn't remember ever having owned one. Usually, she was just 'maid'. 

"You can't speak?"

Molly nodded slightly, remaining silent. 

"You're a bit like my sister. Always stuttered when she wanted to talk, so one day she just stopped talking. We all tried to get her to talk again, promising that we would never laugh when she stuttered, but nobody could make her change her mind. One day, our parish priest, bless his soul, bought her a small blackboard and chalk. From that day on, whenever my sister wanted to say something, she just wrote it down on her little blackboard."

Getting up, Mrs. Evans walked over to a cupboard, pulled open a drawer and took out a pad and a pencil. Walking back to the table, she returned to over to the table, to her place opposite Molly.

"Now I don't have a blackboard for you dear, but I have a pad and a pencil. Can you write your name down for me?" 

Molly took the pencil and carefully wrote "Maid" on the top sheet of the pad in clear handwriting. 

Mrs. Evans looked perplexed.

"That's not your name, dear - that's what you do to earn your living." At the girl's confused look, Mrs. Evans added, "See, I'm cook, but nobody calls me 'Cook' if they know what's good for them. They politely say 'Mrs. Evans', just like this morning, when I was asked to make hot chocolate for the young boys for tea."

Molly listened to her avidly. 

"We have a lot of maids here. If I need one of them, I can't just yell 'Maid' - everyone of them would show up, not just a single one. You need a name by which I can call for you specifically. You, my dear, look like someone who is called Molly. Would you like me to call you Molly?"

Molly had nodded and smiled.

Later on that day, the man who had brought her to Mrs. Evans' kitchen returned to take her away again. Molly didn't want that to happen, so she hissed and showed her teeth. At that point, Mrs. Evans intervened and scolded Molly to behave. Obeying Mrs. Evans, Molly still refused to be moved away from the kitchen. 

Scared, Molly watched Mrs. Evans and the man talk, not comprehending that her fate had been decided that day - that she was to stay at the Folly and Mrs. Evans became her teacher. 

#

The staff at the Folly had been kind and patient in teaching Molly the ropes of her new life, not minding that she never spoke. When her duties were done, she sometimes went upstairs, to explore the house she now lived in. 

Molly soon understood exactly where she was when she accidentally watched some of the apprentices at their training lessons. Watching magic delighted her, and she longed to see more of it, which was why she decided to spy on the apprentices while they were training, her fine sense of hearing assisting her in this effort. Sometimes though, when a very young apprentice was alone in the training room, she left her hiding spot and walked out, which terrified them immensely, much to her amusement. This worked with every one of them, except for one - Thomas Nightingale. 

With her sensitive ears, Molly had accidentally picked up some of the comments that were made about a new apprentice, 'the Nightingale'. He was supposedly very talented. Curious, she watched him train a few times, hidden safely in the shadows, impressed by his performance. 

One evening, when Nightingale thought he was alone in the lab, Molly watched him, planning on trying to scare him just like the other young apprentices. When she stepped into his range of vision, his aim didn't falter and he wasn't scared either. 

"Hello, Molly," Nightingale addressed her calmly.

Molly looked at him curiously.

"For a while, I've noticed you watching me. Do you like magic?"

She acknowledged this with a slight tilt of her head. 

"Do you like to watch me train?" 

She acknowledged this also.

"You may come to watch me whenever you like - no need to hide in the shadows." 

She smiled slightly and even though she showed some of her teeth, he smiled back at her.

A few days later, Molly took him up on his offer for the first time.

Nightingale had been on the firing range, training, and throwing fireballs at targets. He was a delight to watch, hitting his targets seemingly without effort. 

As Molly applauded, he stopped, turned towards where she was standing and smiled at her. Their eyes met and Molly had smiled back, for the first time in her life actively feeling the connection to another living being. 

Molly met up with Nightingale repeatedly afterwards. The more they met, the more this feeling grew. 

#

Their evolving friendship wasn't to everyone's pleasure at the Folly. 

The head cook, the old Mrs. Evans, together with the chief butler told her that it wasn't good to associate with the masters and she should stay away from Mr. Nightingale if she knew what was good for her. As much as she respected Mrs. Evans, this was a matter where she didn't agree with her.

Due to her fine sense of hearing, Molly heard some of the apprentices talk to Nightingale, their words intending to hurt him. She also overheard Nightingale's answers. As much as Nightingale's answers delighted her, the next time she and Nightingale were to meet so she could watch him train, she stayed away. 

A week later, Molly ran into Nightingale accidentally in one of the corridors. 

"I missed your presence during my training, Molly."

Molly curtseyed, intending to turn back towards where she had come from, but Nightingale stopped her. 

"You're my friend, Molly." Nightingale smiled at her. "If you come to watch me train, that's nobody's business but ours."

Molly acknowledged her assent and smiled in return. From that point on, she considered Thomas Nightingale her friend and nobody or nothing could ever change that.

#

Sometimes, Molly had heard people wonder why she never left the Folly. If they were to ask her, she would tell them that the moment she had first stepped through its entrance, she had known that she was where she was supposed to be. The smell had been right. 

It had smelled of home. 

 

End.

**Author's Note:**

> Beta thanks go to P.


End file.
